Way Back Home
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: Sequel to Cigarettes. Wincest once again.


_Somewhere in the country  
There's a place  
Where nobody knows your name  
_

Sam could remember the exact moment he'd fallen in love with his older brother. Or at least the first time he _realized_ he was in love with Dean. They were in some small backwoods town in Colorado on a routine hunt.

He'd spent most of the time sullen and quiet, his knees drawn up to his chest the whole ride there. He'd pushed away Dean's touch and refused to even talk to him. He'd finally found a school he felt he fit into and not like such a freak, and dad had dragged them off on some hunt he could have handled on his own. Could have left Sam with Dean and went on. Dean was seventeen. He could handle a weekend alone with his younger brother. He'd done it before.

The part that had really pissed Sam off though was that dad had left him in the motel anyway. There was no reason for him to be there, other than to be miserable. Dean had tried to lighten things up for him, joking with him and hugging more often than usual. And Sam knew it wasn't fair to Dean, he hadn't made Sam leave again, but he hadn't taken up for Sam's side in the argument when he'd protested.

So for that, he was suffering the silent treatment.

But when Dean had come back with a busted lip and a black eye one afternoon Sam forgot all about the punishment he was supposed to be inflicting on his brother. Jumping off the bed, he'd flung the remote to the floor with a loud _crack_, and nearly sent Dean flying back out the door with the impact of his body.

"What happened?" he demanded. This was routine, this was nothing. How the hell had his brother ended up hurt? And where the hell was dad?

"Girl had a boyfriend," Dean smirked. "And I stress _had_."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head. He should have known it had something to do with a girl. It wasn't the hunt he should have been worried about but Dean's libido and his smart mouth. Even worse when they were used together.

"I was starting to get worried there Sammy. Didn't think you'd ever talk to me again." He grinned and threw an arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him to his side. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his temple, forgetting his busted lip and hissing as it made contact with warm skin.

His brother didn't kiss him often. Not since he'd hit double digits. Unless Sam was on the verge of dying, his body so beaten down that Dean fought dad to stay in the same bed with him.

And anything that made Dean fight dad was miracle in and of itself. Normally he tried to get the hell out of the way as fast as he could. But times like that his father didn't even bother saying anything anymore. He knew that Dean wouldn't give in and all it would do was make the rest of them miserable.

It was something so small and innocent. An arm around his shoulder and a kiss to his temple. But it had made him realize how much his brother meant to him. Or more accurately the _ways_ he felt for his brother. Dean had always been the most important person in his life, now it was just in a different sort of way. And it was another two years before he had the courage or the stupidity, depending on how you wanted to look at it, to admit that to Dean.

None of that mattered now though. He'd ruined things forever with him. So not only was he going to burn in hell for lusting after his brother, as well as actually be fucked by his brother, but now he was alone completely.

At least he could say it had been one hell of a trip.

That had crashed and burned, he reminded himself as he took another sip of his beer. He was only eighteen and wasn't big on drinking, but sometimes a guy just needed a drink.

And a fake I.D. Being a Winchester hadn't taught him nothing after all.

_When I'm feeling lonely there's a train  
That helps me run away_

He lifted his gaze from the beer bottle ring on his napkin and scanned the bar. Why had he come here in the first place? Hitchhiking to nowhere just to get away from a claustrophobic dorm room was beyond stupid. What the hell good was he doing here?

He'd walked away from the same damn thing that had forced him to walk away from the greatest thing in his life. He was so god damn brilliant sometimes. Even thinking that he couldn't make himself want to go back or care. All he saw was that red glowing alarm clock beside his bed, screaming at him, mocking him. Telling him just how big a fool he really was.

That thought had him sucking down the rest of his beer and motioning for another. Something told him the only way he was going to forget any of this was by getting shit faced. And that wasn't an option.

_I know my mother She always told me  
The road would get cold_

He was alone, no car, nobody to back him up. Just a bag full of clothes and money. Getting shit faced would be a huge mistake. And huge mistakes were something Sam was an expert on.

Eyeing the second bottle, he shrugged and downed it. Two beers weren't enough to knock him on his ass. Besides that he had no idea where he was going tonight or tomorrow night for that matter. He was completely without destination for the first time in his life. And it felt like shit.

The only good thing about it being there was no mocking alarm clock following him. And if there was…well, it was going to be one hell of a terrifying night.

Pushing back from the bar he threw down a few bills and gave a polite, but uninterested smile at the girl a few bar stools away. Another thing high on his lists of mistakes was a one night stand in some shit hole bar. It reminded him of his brother a little too much for his taste.

_I never listened  
Always forgettin'  
The way back home_

So much that he could swear he'd seen Dean leaning one well defined hip against the pool table in the back of the room, crooked grin in place. It wasn't unusual to find his brother in a bar hustling or picking up girls, but in this one? What were the odds? Sam didn't even know where he was. He'd just gone as far as they were willing to take him and then hit the first bar he saw.

A bar that ironically enough contained the very object of his desire.

That or two beers had seriously knocked him on his pathetic ass.

Sam hesitated a moment. Had he really seen his brother? Or was this like the alarm clock that didn't really mock him? The odds were astronomical that he would run into an older brother he hadn't seen or heard from since he'd left for Stanford. To find him the second he ran away was unbelievable. And just his rotten luck.

_Somewhere in the city  
There's a face  
That makes it hard to stay_

He didn't want to have to face his brother and his accusing looks. Or worse the understanding, patented, _its okay Sammy, it's my fault for insert latest mistake_ look. Making a quick, probably stupid, decision he ducked his head and headed for the door. He was wiped. A month of sleepless nights and idiotic decisions that plagued his every waking moment had finally taken their toll. He was going to find the nearest motel room and crash, forget that he may or may not have seen his brother and just crash.

Maybe after a few hours of sleep he could make a decision about where to go from here. Dad had told him if he left to stay gone, so there really wasn't an option to go back. Especially considering how Dean would likely feel about that. And Stanford? Well, Stanford really didn't seem like an answer to anything other than, what was Sam's biggest mistake.

All of this annoyingly collaborated in torturing his already bruised and battered self. The pull of the bar and it's offer of heavy, mind numbing drinking growing stronger the longer he stood there and contemplated the possibility of his brother being a mere ten feet away, hustling.

The door looked like his only way out of anything, or an anything that led to nothing, another dead end. The door was an escape from a confrontation and the chances of becoming an alcoholic. So Sam was just more than willing to take his chances with a door that led to uncertainty. And a cheap, familiar bed.


End file.
